My dearest Sam,

How nice to hear from you again! I didn't think it could be done.

My journey? If you go back in the Book to before Bree, in our last night at Tom Bombadil's, I wrote about I dream I had that was remarkably prescient: about the rain being drawn back and the sunrise? Odd, really -- positively uncanny.

Use that for a description of my journey's ending; it will suffice.

Bilbo is fine: he only sleeps half of the time now. But he contrives to nod off amid the company of Elves, so he can listen to their talk and their songs even while he dozes. So he's quite happy.

As for me, I feel a little better. I still shiver, and have fell dreams, and my wounds pain me, but it is lessening a little. But I get by. Oddly enough, what seems to help most is either walking on the beach or just sitting or lying there with the sounds of the waves in my ears and the sea-spray on my face. The sun is warm here, too, which helps.

But I am listening to elven-songs and elven-lore. And improving my knowlege of the language. I found out, by the way, that I misheard; it's omentielvo, not omentielmo. Can you make a note to that effect?

So how many years has it been? Time runs slowly here, like in Lorien but even more so. How old is little Elanor now? Not very, if Frodo-lad is still that young, I expect. (I do hope he's not too much of a rascal -- especially if he's only crawling yet.) Are you Mayor, or is it still dear old Will Whitfoot? And Merry and Pippin? What are those two up to?

I'm glad to hear you are all well, dear Sam. It heals my heart to know that you have your own life, and you still have so much to do, and be, as I said.

Do think of me from time to time.

My best,

Frodo

My dearest Sam,

I admit to being flabbergasted myself. I, too, would have assumed that once I set out for the Undying Lands, that would be our final parting, unless some day you should follow me. I certainly never envisaged something like the Quick Post Service!

But no going back? I'm not so sure; Gandalf once said that Glorfindel, at least, had dwelt in the Blessed Realm and returned to Middle Earth. So there must be some way back; for Elves, anyway. But for a Hobbit of the Shire? I do not know.

No, my dear ass, I don't mind you speaking plainly in the least. Not that it should stop you if I did. I'm no longer your master, and as far as I'm concerned I haven't been for quite some time. Especially after all we went through together. I thought you understood that!

But, oh, Sam. You are angry with me, aren't you, for going? I do wish I hadn't had to, Sam, but I was getting worse, not better; I was feeling more and more wretched and more and more hopeless about ever having surcease from my wounds. Truth to tell, I feared going mad after a couple more years of it...

But don't call yourself any of your Gaffer's hard names (how is your Gaffer, by the way?) for not trying to talk me out of going; by the time we set out, my mind was quite made up. That it was the only way, that is. But all for the best, dear Sam? I feel as torn in two as you were feeling when I left. Even if my wounds do seem to be healing. Well, easing. But I'm not content, dear Sam; far from it. Missing you seems to hurt more than all my wounds and weariness put together. Even if my wounds are healing and the sea is a thing of peace; still, I wonder if I could have had the same result by travelling to Gondor and sitting on the seafront at Dol Amroth for a year or so.

But I'm sorry; this won't be making things any easier for you.

It was good to hear the news, even if it did make me acutely homesick. But then, it's a joy to hear things are going well for you. I'm not surprised to hear Elanor is turning out to be something special; of course your (and Rose's) children would be special. And my young namesake does sound like an inquisitive rascal! I'm told I used to be like that myself. Obviously I changed...

As for naming your next little boy, I'd not fret about the names; if you do name him Merry, simply tell Master Peregrin that Merry-lad came first because he was the eldest, and the next lad will be named for him, should there be one. Either way, Pippin shouldn't feel slighted. As you said, it may be tempting fate to talk about one lad, let alone two, but somehow I don't feel you need worry. And as you so rightly said, you take whatever comes and give thanks. And so long as they're healthy and happy, it doesn't matter, does it? You have an uncommon wisdom, Sam, even if you do say it's "plain old hobbit sense".

And besides, if Merry and Pippin have sons of their own, there'll undoubtedly be a Merry Took and a Pippin Brandybuck running around Bucklebury and the Smials.

Well, well. So it seems I wasn't the only one in the Shire affected for the worse by the War of the Ring... but my dear Sam, was "who can help folk who don't let on they don't need help" a gentle dig at me?

"Do a bit of good for the Shire?" Sam, if you never did anything else in your lifetime, you've done immeasurable good for our dear Shire already. Twice over; first by my side and then with the Lady Galadriel's box. But of course you'll be Mayor, and one of the best; your "plain hobbit sense" will sustain the Shire as it sustained me on our road. I meant it when I said I wouldn't have got far without you, you know.

Oh Sam. You're never far from my thoughts. I'd say "I think of you every day," but time passes differently here... Yes, my troubles are easing, though I begin to wonder if my wounds will every be truly healed, even here... Did I know best? I wonder.

And you wonder -- what? Do say what you were going to say, Sam; I could do with some plain hobbit sense. It's in short supply here; there's only me and Bilbo here, and Bilbo is sleeping half the time and off talking to the Elves the rest. Which reminds me; thank you for "omentielvo". Bilbo was most amused, until Gandalf pointed out that the failure was probably his as teacher. That had the Elves laughing for days; Bilbo and Gandalf having what could politely be called an "impassioned debate" (albeit half in jest) was food for amusement, I admit.

And as for laughing, your story of Merry and Pippin cornering the market on the ale (and willowbark, I would expect) made me laugh harder than I can remember doing for a long time, not merely smile. It got me some quizzical looks too, I can tell you; Bilbo and Gandalf's set-to with words notwithstanding, the Elves here aren't much for laughing. Smiling, yes, laughing, no. But no matter.

Do write again, now that we know it's possible. It's a link I didn't know I missed -- nay, needed -- until I no longer had it.

With gratitude,

Your friend

Frodo

My dear Sam,

First of all, congratulations on the safe arrival of little Rosie-lass. To both you and Rose -- if Rose knows you and I are corresponding.

I didn't laugh when I heard the news, but I went around with a smile broad enough to split my face. I'm sure some wondered what I was smiling about, as it's rare that I do smile here... Did I mention that Gandalf seeks me out as soon as one of your letters comes (and I've had time to read it) and asks for the news? I don't know how he always knows... but he invariably asks me for the news, then goes off with a thoughtful look on his face. He's as close as ever. But he does send his congratulations as well.

But I don't remember when I last laughed over there, either...

You know, Sam, I can't think why I didn't tell you, either. It all seems like a dark dream, now... I think it was in my mind that I didn't want to burden you further, since you were so happy in your new life and I didn't want to cloud your joy. I had it in my mind that by leaving it until the last possible moment to tell you, I would give you the least pain. I was wrong, wasn't I?

No, you are making sense. But I felt I was losing it all -- the pain was getting worse, not better, the longer I was there. Yes, the shadows passed, but they seemed to press closer and closer each time -- I'll not tell of some of the things I felt and saw on the dark days. And even in between; it was like I was slowly slipping into a dark mere and there was nothing I could do about it. I could see that there was still beauty and happiness in Middle Earth, and the Shire, and even for me -- and you do know that your joys gave me the deepest happiness I've known, don't you? -- but it all seemed oddly remote, like I could see it but not be of it.

You know what I feared, Sam? I feared becoming like Gollum. Remember what he was like; unable to take joy in sunlight and sweet scents and beauty again, longing only for his Precious even though he hated it? So, even though I longed with all my heart to stay in the Shire and do all I could to help in its rebuilding and dandle your children on my lap and whatever else life held for me... I could not, Sam. I could not. Do you understand?

And how could I tell you that? You hated Gollum more than I ever did; how could I tell you what was happening to me? You may have shared the burden of the Ring with me -- and you know I'd never have got there without you, don't you? Even though it would have all been for naught without, ironically, poor twisted Sméagol -- but how could I tell you that? Would you have, could you have, understood, when I said "I fear I am becoming like Gollum", or would you have drawn away and turned your face away in disgust?

I could not, dear Sam. I could not bear to envision the look on your face. Even in imagination I could not bear to espy it.

Yes, I probably did not tell you precisely because I knew that you would try to talk me out of going. But that's why I couldn't tell you -- because you would have, no question. Oh, Sam, it would have been so easy to give in, to stay with you and take what happiness I could... but how could I burden you with me getting worse and worse, year after year? If it hadn't been for the route to the Havens I would have had to run off into the Wild somewhere.

Perhaps I did let my fears do my thinking for me, dear Sam; but with such fears there was no hope. At least none in Middle-Earth that I could see.

But please don't reproach yourself over not making me speak, dear Sam. If there was a mistake, it was my mistake. Not yours.

And don't you see, Sam? Part of the reason I'm not content is because I feel as torn in two as you did; because I am cured enough to be able to long for home, and you, and my life there -- because as I am now there is so much I could do and be. As I could not when I left.

If I could go back -- then? -- would I choose differently? I don't know, dear Sam -- as I was then, I could see no hope. If I could go back, now, as I am -- ?

But what ship could bear me back across so wide a Sea?

Would it have been worth the hurt, to stay? Not the hurts as they were, and the hurt that would have been brought to you, and Rose, and Elanor, and Frodo-lad and Rosie-lass, by seeing me... But would the hurts have got better, where I was? If they were getting harder to bear after two years, would they have been better in three, or four, or five, or ten, or -- ?

But don't reproach yourself for grieving me, dear Sam. And don't worry about saying anything out of place... if we are friends, which we were and are, and no longer master and servant, then you can and should say to me what's on your mind. I always did value your plain speaking and hobbit-sense, Sam, and the more now the Sundering Seas divide us and our only link is these letters.

And have you forgotten, Sam, that since I'm no longer 'sir' and 'Mr Frodo', you're no longer 'my Sam'? Unless I'm also 'your Frodo'. Actually, I would rather like to be 'your Frodo', if I may...

When you think of me sitting by the sea, think of me sitting there, raising a glass to Mayor Samwise -- and my own dear Sam.

Yours,

Frodo

My dearest Sam,

Do I owe you an apology? If so, I do apologise unreservedly; I just wanted to be sure that you knew that you no longer had to defer to me -- with your questions of "have I been too forward" and the like, I was concerned. You never could be too forward, Sam. I just wanted to be sure that was understood between us.

We've had enough misunderstandings between us, and enough times when one or the other of us bit back our words, I think -- so I will screw up my courage and say it. I wanted to be sure, with all the past and all the sundering seas between us, that I was still your Frodo. Not just your companionship -- as much as we can make it at this distance -- but your approbation has come to mean so very much to me, dear Sam; or I'm realising only now just how much it means, now we're separated beyond the bounds of the world.

The sweetest days of your life? I can't exactly say the same, but I will say that the parts I remember, the parts were you were by my side, stand like a beacon in my memory. Dear Sam. What I put you through! -- especially the times I called you "thief" -- I shudder to think of it.

But telling me to 'not talk about it' in the tower? Sam, I'd totally forgotten that! And you were right, in any case; the thing to do was to get out of there. And that's quite a thing apart from any talking I did or didn't do later, the choice was mine, to speak or be silent. And if I felt a bit pummelled after reading your last letter; well, it was merited. But it is helping, Sam; and I'm glad, very glad, that it's helping you.

What's ailing Merry? His own memories of the Orcs? His encounter with the Witch- King? -- well do I know his fell power. But you tell Master Meriadoc from me that I'm glad he spoke to you; and Master Peregrin from me, not to make the mistake I did and to talk about what's ailing him. He doesn't want to burden his fine young bride with the after effects -- oh, do pass on my congratulations, if nothing else. And tell Merry that I'm very sorry to hear his father's health is ailing and I send him every good wish. If news from one over the Sea won't send the poor old hobbit off screaming into the night.

Talking of fathers, I'm sorry to hear about the Gaffer's frailty. Is he all right otherwise? You're right, he is a tough old one, and as they say, he'll go down swinging. And yes, he'll see you become Mayor! He won't miss that for all the taters in the Shire.

And so congratulations are in order on quite another front. But what's wrong with "Sam"? I like it -- it belongs to a very dear friend of mine.

But my dear, dear Sam. Fearing something might not mean it won't come to past -- but wishing something won't happen won't mean it doesn't. I may have had a light shining within me -- dear Sam, you have the soul of a poet -- but all within my mind was shadows. And don't say it's "foolishness" -- I'm not brought to tears by mere foolishness. But a hobbit who blames himself for something his then master did or didn't do is being foolish -- and makes said former master shake his head in exasperation, Sam.

And don't be sure the shadows have passed, Sam. The darkness hasn't passed even here, beyond the Sea. I had a bad episode not so long ago: a March illness, by the feel of it. So, my dear old silly hobbit, if the Blessed Realms cannot alleviate it, you bear no blame for what you did (or didn't) do.

Oh Sam. But it would have been a burden for you to see me slide down into the darkness -- a burden you may not have been able to bear, a burden I certainly could not have borne to see you bear, a burden I fled to prevent from coming to pass. Say what you will, Sam, I don't believe any light I may or may not have borne within me could have kept away that darkness.

But here, I'm grieving you further, doubtless. Therefore I will cease.

Thank you for your kind words. Yes, it means a good deal to me to be with Bilbo. But I didn't go to be with Bilbo, Sam; I went because I could not stay. Of course, the fact that he was there too was solace... But I will give Bilbo your fondest regards; he'll be most pleased to receive them, and to hear from you.

Oh Sam. Would that I could hold you to take away all the pain I brought to you. But all I can do is send my best love and gratitude.

Do you feel a clasp upon your hand? Think of me sitting by the seashore, on the closest point to Middle Earth, stretching out my hand; that is the clasp you feel.

Your Frodo.

P.S. Ted Sandyman? Not if he stuffed the ballot-boxes from Michel Delving to Brandy Hall and back again. Ted Sandyman, indeed! -- Yr. F.

To Mayor Samwise of Bag End: greetings and congratulations.

Sam! You would do that? But I don't want to trap you here before your time -- do you really want to leave Rose and the children? But then, what am I speaking of? It can't be done -- although if will alone could find a way, you would do it.

Sam, are you saying I "jumped ship"? And was I really that bad on the way to Mordor? My memory is hazy at some points and at other times it's as if it happened to someone else, not me. Merciful, I expect.

Well, I won't say you can't bear it, dear Sam; instead I'll say what I think I said in my last letter (I don't keep copies, after all) -- you shouldn't have had to bear it. And as much as I long to see you and as much as you miss me, I still hesitate to burden you with the whole sorry mess that is my life. Do you understand me, dear Sam?

Yes, that was a bit of cheer -- and I do need it, for (and don't you dare reproach yourself!) your letters wring my heart. But you may be right about that free beer.

I don't know how I knew you'd be Mayor, dear Sam. I have had dreams (as you know) which were of things that later came to pass, but this was not one of them.

But that light! -- And Gandalf is too busy and too concerned to ask, even here. For one thing, Bilbo is declining again and Gandalf, who knew him from childhood, is very worried about him. Bilbo, though, seems happy enough -- just sleepy.

But I wish I could see it, Sam, if only for your sake.

Elanor would be eight, now? And young Fro six? How the years are passing!

Glad to hear Pippin's wedding went off well. I'm not so glad to hear that there are things Merry (and Pippin) kept back, and that the memories are troubling them. Oh my poor cousins. Oh my poor Sam! What I put you all through! That was why I wanted to go alone in the first place, if you recall; so that this wouldn't happen and I wouldn't have your hurts on my conscience. But then, as I've said many a time, I'd've got nowhere without you. I hope, if they speak of Frodo of the Nine Fingers, they mention his faithful Sam right alongside him.

But talking of the nine fingers -- it's very strange, but that finger seems to be growing back! Not all the way yet, but it's up to the last knuckle. So if my writing appears strange, that's why -- I'd just become used to writing with nine fingers, and now I'm having to get used to writing with (most of) ten again. The finger has definite teeth marks where my original one was severed -- if Gollum was here, I reckon you could take a match from it. Oh, I remember that all right -- and I remember, when he took It back, wanting to get up and regain it and yet feeling as if I was being gently but firmly held down. It was as if I could hear a voice in my mind saying: Wait.

So then if that is healing, Sam, then maybe there is also healing that we cannot see. I must confess I was disappointed that the last fit was as bad as ever -- they've been easing in intensity -- but maybe it's a pain I have to endure first for it to lessen. We can but hope.

But don't worry about the Bag End issue, Sam. After all, it is in accordance with my stated wishes. And there are witnesses: but then, they're all over on my side of the Sundering Seas. Hm. I wonder if Gandalf would sign a statement to that effect?

(Later:) I asked Gandalf about the matter when he came by to tell me about Bilbo and he gave me one of his strange looks and said "My dear hobbit, don't you realise yet that that's a boon granted to only you?" I asked him about the light and he just sighed, shook his head and gave me a look as if I'd done or said something stupid.

So he's as close as ever.

Back to inheritance: I do understand, dear Sam, so don't reproach yourself. Bilbo, after all, did the same with me, and no-one aside from the Sackville-Bagginses challenged it. But if he'd turned up again I would have made him as welcome as you, I know, would find me welcome, if there was a way to bridge the Sundering Seas.

Yes, I did smile when you mentioned swimming lessons. It also was surprising; I'd resolved, if I ever see you again, to give you swimming lessons myself. Did I ever tell you I used to swim in my boyhood? I've taken it up again, although it's quite a different matter from a beach than it was in the Brandywine! At first I just paddled in the shallows, but lately I've been swimming out and riding the waves in, as much as I can with my own body as ballast. And if the Elves thought I was strange before, they really think I'm strange now. There, I hope that brought a smile to your face.

Oh Sam. But you're right, there is no forgetting -- for either of us. Leaving Middle- Earth didn't tear you out of my heart -- in fact it only embedded you deeper. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I wish you could be holding me to see me through, too -- but more I wish I could be holding you to ease the troubles I brought upon you. But that time, I did feel arms around me and a comforting presence. I thought it was wishful thinking...

But if anyone could reach across the Sundering Seas by will alone, it's you.

With all my love

Your Frodo

My dearest Sam,

My, you do give effusive greetings. Not that I'm complaining by any means ... were we on the same side of the sea, that one would earn you an embrace that would test your ribs.

But as for burdens: yes, Gandalf did say "take someone you can trust" as you reminded me at Crickhollow. But I can't not have it on my conscience that I drew you all into this, even if you did come of your free will (you did, didn't you, Sam? Even though both Gandalf and Elrond charged you to go with me -- maybe they both knew I'd never have made it without you) -- because of the Quest, you're all as scarred in your own ways as I am. Even if it was by your choice that you came, it still wrings my heart.

And as for Mount Doom; yes, I've been told over and over again by Aragorn, Gandalf, Elrond and Galadriel that no-one else could have resisted the Ring as long as I could. And yes, I do remember the peace -- but I, at least, thought that the Quest was done and my sufferings were nearly over. My one grief was that you would die with me, glad as I was to have you with me.

And you know, I never thought about my not going mad if the Ring was taken from me -- "half-wise" indeed, you're wiser than I am in so many ways, dear Sam. I was sure, so sure, that I would go mad if it was taken with me, or die when it ended. I was spared. But in some ways I still desire it: in March, as you probably guessed. That's the hardest thing to bear. The knife-wound and the poisoning hurt more, but that chills my heart.

I cannot look only to the shadows, dear Sam? But what do I do when shadows are all that I can see?

I'm as surprised as you are about the finger. Not even Beren One-Hand grew anything back, seemingly... But the Elves, when I question them, are all giving me knowing smiles as if there's something I should know or guess about it. I can't figure it out for the life of me.

Sam, when I was talking about witnesses, I was talking about witnesses to my leaving you my worldly goods, not the fact that I'd sailed! Although I did make the arrangements before I left, as you know. Obviously some are not prepared to accept that I did not intend to come back, as they were when Bilbo left after the Party. I do hope it's not because I left it all to you and not to a Baggins -- it had better not be. Besides, no-one could look after it better.

But I'd forgotten that you, Merry and Pippin could bear witness that I'd gone with the intent of not returning!

As for Sandyman's gossip, he sounds like Otho and Lobelia at their worst. Though I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, and Lobelia did mellow at the end, poor thing. But do you think if you got Sandyman an umbrella he'd take the hint?

And you disposing of me to get your inheritance -- ? Has he lost his wits? Damn fool, indeed. As if you'd do such a thing, even if you had coveted Bag End. And I know you'd give it all up to have me back, which is one of the many, many reasons I left it to you. (I'm sure you know or can guess the rest.) But regardless, it is yours; nothing alters that.

You could be right about the letters. Certainly we're tied together beyond the boundaries of the world. But whether it's to ease our parting, or because there's still unfinished business between us (we're saying a lot of things we never said when we were both on Middle-Earth) or for some other reason that we cannot foretell, or both, I do not know. But if it is solely to ease our hearts, I wouldn't be without it. Bless you for taking the initiative and sending that first letter.

I asked Gandalf recently how the letters got to you and he only shook his head. I asked if anything could sail back, as I'd never seen ships sail to Middle-Earth, and he said there had been voyages back, but not since the breaking of the world when Numenor fell. I asked, if he had come from the west, if he had come before or after Numenor, and he said "After -- but I am a different case entirely, my dear Frodo. "And in Gandalf fashion, he would say no more.

Thank heavens you wouldn't leave Rose -- you wouldn't be the hobbit I thought you were if you did, or the Sam I know, but the way you were talking you had me worried. Poor Sam, are you still torn in two? -- oh, but if only I could come back. And yes, I probably would spoil the children rotten, if only I could -- if they weren't afraid of someone who took strange at least twice a year, that is. But I don't know about leading Frodo-lad into more mischief -- my mischief days are long past. And I wouldn't just spoil my namesake, I'd spoil them all -- but not to the point of ruin, or Rose would throw me out. Just... indulge them, while making sure they know how lucky they are.

Ah, if only it could be.

And congratulations on the birth of young Merry-lad. I'm glad Rosie-lass likes her new little brother!

A little Sam of my own? It can't be done. No, I never was the marrying type before I left, and even if there was one willing, I wouldn't now. To put it bluntly, dear Sam, I don't know what the knife, the poison and the Ring have done to me, and I could not risk any harm being passed on.

But that idea of one of the Bagginses naming a son for you has merits...

As for swimming; even if I practiced until I could swim back, I don't know if it is possible; the way it was explained to me, Middle-Earth is bent but the road to the Blessed Isles is straight, and somehow we took that straight path. But if I could, I would go into training forthwith. I hope that made you smile. Yes, it made me smile -- with tears in my eyes.

Thank you for thinking of me last October 6th. It was still a hard spell, but all the time it was as if a pair of loving arms were around me, holding me up, and that made it easier to bear. But I still can't see that light. Maybe I sha'n't until you show it to me.

May 1428 bring you all you desire.

With all my love,

Your Frodo

Sam:

Bilbo is dead.

I am alone.

Everyone has been very kind, but I feel utterly bereft.

Please write. I need you more than ever.

Frodo

My dearest Sam:

Oh Sam. I don't know what to say.

Well, I do, and I can hear you saying 'just say it, then' so I'll just say it.

I'm coming home.

There, do you hear that? I'm coming home. (And you can probably hear me shouting that from the other side of the Sea.) Are you smiling yet, dear Sam?

How? I don't know. But it will be done.

Why? Well, there's a tale.

Everyone's, as I may have mentioned a time or two, noticed me hanging around the seashore and gazing across the water. Remember those strange looks? Where I just thought they thought I was odd? Evidently that wasn't the half of it.

They knew I was yearning for something.

They knew I needed something that wasn't here, in the Blessed Realm.

Of course Gandalf, knowing me, knowing us all, the best, put it together. Though he didn't tell me, oh no, he make his usual vague hints and looked at me until I saw it for myself.

I'm not happy here, especially now that Bilbo is gone. And I'm not happy without you, and never will be. And I miss the dear old Shire, and the hills and streams and fields and woods of Middle-Earth.

And I will have no further healing here. Not now. At least, I will have no further healing without you.

Even Bilbo said, "You'll not be happy without Sam, will you?" Before he died. And he charged me that if a way could be found, that I would promise to at least consider going back.

Dear Bilbo. Do you think he knew?

Though I'm not going because me made me promise to consider it. I want you to understand that, dear Sam. I'm going because I want to come home. To you.

But dear Bilbo. May he rest in peace with your Gaffer.

When I asked Gandalf, "did you not foresee this?" he said only, "Even the wise cannot see all ends."

THEN he said, "There is a way back, if you wish it."

I said, "How?"

He said, "A way will be opened. It will happen. If you wish it."

I didn't quite leap at the chance, dear Sam -- I thought on it for all of, say, ten seconds. Then I said: "There will still be the pain."

"Yes," he said.

"But the pain of being separated from Sam is worse."

He raised his eyebrows but said, "Yes."

"And if I am with Sam, and among my kind, I won't have to bear it alone."

"No."

"And the Shire is my home."

"Yes," he said with one of his looks.

"Then I will go back," I said to him.

As if there was any doubt.

It may be strange for someone to be rejoicing at leaving the Blessed Realms, but I feel like dancing and singing for joy.

And no matter how bad the pain that will come may be, I feel I can face it, knowing ou are there with me.

This is our last letter, Sam. It's only going on ahead so you know when I'm coming. I suspect you will want to meet me off the boat, after all!

Will you meet me at the Havens, Sam? I will be there when the leaves turn gold.

With my dearest love,

Your Frodo